


these places he’s been (and the ones he’ll never see)

by YouDontRememberTheSomme



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019), 1917 - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, The original character is Friedrich’s brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:00:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23851207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouDontRememberTheSomme/pseuds/YouDontRememberTheSomme
Summary: The life of Friedrich Baumer leading up meeting Schofield in Écoust.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	these places he’s been (and the ones he’ll never see)

The day Friedrich Baumer was born was unremarkable. Overcast but not rainy, just another mild spring day. Not memorable in the slightest, just like him.

His parents might’ve called him an easy child, had they taken much note of him. It wasn’t their fault really - he didn’t resent them for paying more attention to his older brother, not with his constant fighting. He’d convinced himself early on that attention wasn’t what he wanted, no matter how much the desire for it needled at his mind. He was rarely one to follow through on his desires- for affection, for fulfillment, for… anything, really. 

Even before the war, Friedrich was just one unextraordinary face in a sea of unextraordinary people, not like he could change that. He was content to just  _ be _ , to be what his parents expected and leave it at that.

For what it was worth, things were different after the war broke out. His brother Hugo- ever the bastard, ever the one who went out of his way to terrorize his younger brother and, really, anyone who happened to be nearby- was preoccupied. He’d enlisted as soon as he was able, his parents seeming to momentarily forget about the trouble he’d caused.

If Friedrich resented them for that, he never voiced it. That was what he did- he kept his head down and let things go.

He couldn’t say he was upset when the bad news came just weeks after Hugo left. He didn’t feel anything, really, not even relief. Nothing.

There was nothing but numbness when his time came to enlist- early 1917, around the end of January. Six months after he’d turned seventeen.

He was never much better than average, just adequate enough to get by without trouble. Which, if Friedrich was honest, was exactly what he was fine with. If he had his way, the war would finish the next day and he could go home before he saw any combat.

But that was never how things went. Everything in his life was constantly dictated by others, some force beyond him. Nothing was really in his control, the strings held by fate never being passed over to his hands.

Until he met Müller. He was a bit crass and more vulgar than Friedrich liked, but he was… alright. 

It took three months of careful words, soft jokes about wanting to go home, backing off when the jokes veered too close to serious plans, before Müller voiced the idea of desertion. The pair had always spoken so carefully, knowing the punishment for voicing the idea to the wrong person.

It was over a fire in a town in France- Friedrich never bothered to remember their names. They all blended together anyway- that Albrecht spoke.

“What if we left?”

His words were slurred, his voice thick from brandy and exhaustion. 

“Are you suggesting-?”

“Don’t be stupid. You know as well as I do that we both want to leave.”

“We wouldn’t get far, Albrecht.”

Müller lifted his gaze, looking at him with eerily calm eyes.

“We’ll die if we stay.”

“Let’s go.”

That brief moment of bravery, that was an uncharacteristic move for him. Boldness didn’t come naturally to him the way silence had.

He considered himself a follower- always waiting for someone else to take the lead, to make the decisions.

But there he was, drinking with an older soldier after deserting the German army. Even just a month prior, he wouldn’t have believed it.

Friedrich had stepped out of the schoolhouse for just a moment, just a handful of moments. When he’d turned the corner, he was met with unfamiliar blue eyes, a man in a uniform he recognized far too well.

The hand was covering his mouth, almost smothering him, before he could process what was happening.

His head hit the pillar hard, fear surging through him. That was a wrong move, one he wasn’t sure how to fix.

A million unfinished thoughts ran through Friedrich’s head as he stared up at the man, the stranger, restraining him. The other soldier held a finger to his lips, trying to shush him. Baumer shakily nodded, his whole body trembling as the Englishman finally let go of him. Friedrich slowly inhaled, turning his head.

“ _ Engländer!”  _ a voice - his? - screamed.

So he fought back, struggling against the man’s grasp even as they hit the floor.

For a moment, just one hopeful moment, he had the upper hand, even managing to get a hold of his knife before he was toppled and pinned again.

A surge of panic flooded the teenager, something primal and terrified as the hands around his throat tightened.

He would die, unremarkable and unknown and anonymous, in a burnt out building in a town he barely knew the name of, and as his vision blacked out, he couldn’t think of anything sadder.


End file.
